


Ice Red

by aeonzii



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Case Fic, Denial of Feelings, Drama, Freeform, Gavin Reed and RK900 On A Case, Gen Z Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson and Connor On A Case, Headcanon, M/M, Mild Language, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Slow Romance, Slow To Update, To Be Continued
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeonzii/pseuds/aeonzii
Summary: Cases, androids, and ambiguous feelings, life after the revolution was a mix of positives and negatives for the detective. When an old case reopens, seemingly from nowhere, Gavin Reed has one thing (and only one thing) on his mind: solving it.When he drops into the usual pitfalls of having a partner, he goes on to his regular trials and tribulations. Only this time, there was a glaring difference.This partner was an android.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Gavin Reed, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. No Surprises

"No."

Fowler pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gavin--"

"No. Not happening. Pair me with any other android who passed that test fair and square, I'll take it like a shot of whiskey. This one's got no business showing up here and pulling a phcking position from thin air--"

The Captain pointed his index finger to his table, pressing down every other word to emphasize his point. "He's a state of the art Cyberlife prototype. If we don't let him in, we're **wasting** **_potential_**. Do you know how many more cases we can solve if we have _one more_ android that can do what Connor can do?"

Gavin dragged his palms down the sides of his face. "And _you're_ the one telling _me_ to treat them better." He let out an exasperated laugh. "You're already comparing this guy to an _older model_ of himself. You don't see me going 'Hey, why can Jessica handle blood better than Cynthia when they're the same model?' If you want me to, I could hop on to the police van and encourage every single police android I can find to come back to the force."

" **That's not-!** " Fowler caught himself in the middle of raising his voice. With the brand new stems of crime reported daily, the last thing he needed was to grill someone in full blast. "That's not what this is about. You've seen what Connor can do. It doesn't matter who we take in, this is the _only other android_ who can do what he does. Maybe even _better._ We need it. And I need _you_ to stop looking for ways to piss me off."

That was sad to hear for Gavin. The _one_ inconsistency he found in Fowler, and he wasn't even allowed to revel in it. He crossed his arms, annoyed

Fowler groaned. "Look, I'm not assigning him to you because I hate you. I'm assigning him to you because you're the only other guy in the precinct who can match wits with an investigative android. You have the best human cases track record I've ever seen."

The detective raised an eyebrow. He _lived_ in praise... but with how Fowler phrased it, it was more than likely to be followed with something less endearing.

"...but I can't say the same for the android ones."

There it was.

"This is going to sound hard to believe: I like you, Reed. I really do. It's the attitude that pulls you back. If you want to stay on top of the game, you should take him. Departments all around the country-- hell, the _world_ would _kill_ for any person who can handle human _and_ android cases. RK900 will be your partner. He doesn't want to be called Connor, but that's the name Cyberlife gave him. Give him a nickname and don't be a cock about it. I gave him the executive permission to report any misbehaviours about you straight to me."

There was more he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure what. Things along the lines of _he doesn't need a partner, partners weigh me down_ or _I don't need some programmed douchebag telling me how to run my investigations,_ but he knew how every single one ended with: another page to his disciplinary report.

Still, Fowler was right. He treated android cases like human cases which proved _grossly incompetent_ as he observed the results of Connor and Hank's. Maybe this _was_ an opportunity to learn. He could only hope the android wasn't too aggressive or silent or chatty or annoying or soft or-

"Fuckin'..." was all he could muster under his breath before turning on his heel, opening the glass door with more force than necessary. His colleagues watched as he stomped all the way to his desk. Everyone, most notably Connor and Hank, could sense the troubled atmosphere-- especially once he saw what waited on the desk adjacent to his.

"Good morning, detective," RK900 spoke. When the words left his mouth, Gavin couldn't help but feel a sense of whiplash. His tone was far more cold and sharp than the personality he was used to associating with the same face.

He took some time to study the android. Grey eyes. Cleaner cut. Asshole-ier clothing. God, he somehow looked more of a prick than Connor did. "Listen, Chase, if my morning were any good, you wouldn't have been greeting me for it. Unless its coffee or a case, don't try and be buddy-buddy with me."

His expression caught a few eyes. As he sat down, RK900 tried to process exactly what he said wrong to cause such a reaction.

The fresh detective proceeded to his own seat, baffled. He tried his hardest to understand the new and strangely specific, nickname given to him. Even a couple hundred thousand cross-references weren't enough to make sense of it. "Chase?"

"Can't call you tin cans or plastics anymore. I'm at liberty to become more--" he closed his fists at the fingertips. To emphasize his point, he positioned his hands near his face "--creative" and flashed them open, exaggerated. Mouth agape, he popped his lips for further effect.

He laughed to himself. Then cut it short. He turned to the android, a serious look on his face. "Don't talk to me."

RK900 knew that partnership was going to feel a lot longer than it actually was.

* * *

"Dipshit." RK900 was busy readjusting his appearance using his reflection on the terminal. He was still caught on the nickname 'Chase' and what it referred to on his person. It sounded absurd for a quip first done a week ago, but it intrigued the android. Gavin claimed it was out of creativity, so it must have been a reference to something unique to him. What it was was what he wanted to figure out. "Quit looking at yourself a minute. The new case rolled in and it's _big._ I'm not going to give Hank a _chance_ to look at this one."

He threw a full folder right on to RK900's desk. It landed right on the centre, despite Gavin throwing it from his right side. The flick he used seemed instinctual-- almost as if it was muscle memory. "How does this differ from other cases?" The mere thickness of the folder struck RK900 as odd. The folders they'd been given so far were nowhere near as stacked as this one. At a glance, he estimated somewhere between 20 - 30 pages.

The detective quickly wiped off the grin he didn't know he was wearing. "Are you kidding me? Look at this fucking case file. It's _huge_!" He gestured to the folder, coffee in hand. Suddenly, he gulps down the drink in one swig. That was another thing he noticed. Without fault, Gavin Reed drank a mug's worth of coffee at least once a day. More when he's stressed. Having had consumed a total of 9 mugs so far, it was clear to RK900 that caffeine wasn't merely being used as a pick-me-up. He let out a deep, satisfied sigh. "Basics: Red ice seller. Breaks open androids and use them as pack mules. Human or not, the drug smuggling shit's always fucked up."

There was an edge to his voice RK900 was... unfamiliar with. It sounded like anger, though it wasn't quite as aggressive as it should sound. It seemed more focused. Directed. "Every case we've taken is morally debilitating. The only difference is who's tearing it down."

Gavin's eyes rolled far back into his head. He had a point, sure, but there was no reason for RK900 to be wording it like he was some dumbass. "I didn't sign up to work with a walking thesaurus. You go do that thing you do. Whatever it is. I don't give a shit."

"How disconcerting. I've grown to be very fond of you, detective." His tone was flat and lifeless. To Gavin, however, that sentence alone dripped with more personality than he once thought androids incapable.

He sounded a _lot_ like a grandpa for an android made to look from his late 20's to early '30s. Even _Hank_ didn't use the word 'fond'. "Hey, it took me a good _4 months_ to start using pronouns. I'm not about to _fuck_ one of you on my fifth."

RK900 smirked, curious. "There was a time you didn't think we were alive?"

"Uh, yeah," Gavin said, so matter-of-factly. It probably was. One week was never a good frame of reference for someone's personality. However, if there was one consistency with detective Reed: it was that he wore his heart on his sleeve. "Sorry I didn't think the perfect pretty boy silicones had to worry about where to get money to eat tomorrow or what happens to them when they die or how to talk to the cute fuckin' barista down the street."

"But you resign to the idea... right now? I mean--" he gestured to himself. "Obviously."

Gavin pretended to act shocked, hand over his mouth. He took one, dramatic inhale before dropping it altogether. " **No shit**. You give them initiative and treat them like animals, obviously, they'll do something about it. Just didn't..."

The firm tone trailed to a whisper near the end of his sentence. Aggravated, he scratched his head. "What's taking you so long? You should've jogged the whole thing into your head by now!"

Ignoring how expertly he dodged the topic, RK900 replied. "I'm an android, not a miracle worker. I've barely even opened the file."

"Well, get a move on! It's 1 pm and all I've done is find a case."

"We've cracked 3 cases in the span of a week. I don't think it's bad today is much slower paced."

"I didn't raise hell to work 'slow-paced'."

"You're a detective."

"What's _that_ got to do with anything?"

The new detective was about to find out exactly how _little_ it correlated.

Two guards rushed in, in pursuit of an android who ran straight through security. Unsuspecting officers and employees alike were subject to the torrent of force supplied by what seemed to be a rugged android. Half of his face dripped blue blood along his path. He was rabid, yelling at everyone to get out of his way. The entire precinct was too stunned to do anything. The entire precinct, save for Connor.

Connor seemed to recognize the android, jumping straight out of his seat to approach the runaway. The rabid android tumbled over one of the sergeants, prompting nearby officers to draw their pistols. The two guards closed in.

"Don't shoot him! Don't touch him either!" Connor pleaded. RK900 simply drew his own, shooting the gun off of an officer's grasp. The android's stress levels nearly skyrocket after, in response, another officer accidentally fires a shot barely missing his body. The sergeant scurried out from under him with assistance from the guards.

RK900 gently placed the gun on the desk, unfazed. The precinct's attention was on _him._ " **Please** keep your **distance** from the **android.** As you can see, he's badly damaged. The last thing he needs is a firing squad."

"Please!" His voice was hoarse and raspy, almost like a regular human's who hadn't had anything to eat or drink for the past few days. The rabid android echoed, pushing himself upwards to stand. RK900 scanned him: WR600 #021 753 034. Status: Missing. "Please do what he said! Ralph thought this was the best place to go because of deviant hunter!" He pointed frantically at Connor, causing Hank to jump in his place. "Ralph can trust deviant hunter. Ralphs knows deviant hunter is Detroit Police! Yes, Detroit Police. Ralph doesn't trust Detroit Police, but he trusts androids! Deviant hunter is an android, so Ralph trusts him. Ralph wants to trust that one." He moved his finger to RK900.

At this point, Fowler had been observing the commotion through his glass walls. The situation didn't stand out until the sound of the gunshot rang through the air. He stepped out of his office. "That one almost _looks_ like deviant hunter. Could've fooled me, but no! He's _different..._ but he helped Ralph. Ralph is thankful. Ralph wants everyone to know that--"

He began shaking and hyperventilating. His stress levels fluctuated. That was common mostly for androids that were defective or had busted biocomponents. After the revolution, it became a sign of trauma.

"Everyone back to work!" Fowler's commanding voice boomed through the entire department. People nearly tripped over themselves heading back to their previous assignments.

Hank wanted to argue. Gavin wanted to argue. However, Connor and RK900 decided to observe. He _was_ Captain for a reason.

Fowler gently approached the android, taking little steps. His arms were open around him as if trying to approach a confused animal... or a sensitive child. The android-- Ralph-- still hyperventilating, coiled into himself. There were several approaches everybody thought the Captain would take. Any approach, except this one.

"It's okay. Breathe." He nodded as if to convince him he was telling the truth. There was no reason he wasn't.

Ralph's shaking seemed to come less intensely after that. Fowler took this as a sign to move more and more towards the android, taking a gentle breath. "Inhale." His voice was soft, smooth, and kind. Gavin thought it was ridiculous for a grown man to be treating another (technically) grown man like a child, trauma or not. Hank thought it was brilliant.

Ralph's breathing was still rapid. "Exhale." He let the air flow through his mouth. Though his eyes were busy scanning every nook and cranny of the building, it was clear from the sound that he was beginning to calm. The Captain didn't push his luck, stopping in his tracks a good 2 feet from the android. "Inhale." He repeated, taking another breath.

This time, Ralph tried his best to follow. "Exhale."

Ralph let a long, but very shaky, gust of air through his mouth. It was accompanied by little whimpers. Just the sound broke Hank's heart. Gavin re-evaluated his own thoughts. "Inhale. Ex-exhale. Okay. Inhale. Ex-ex-ex-ex-exhale. Yes." He replied. Finally, he looked at Fowler straight in his eyes. "Thank you. I want to-- Ralph wants to report a crime." He nodded vigorously.

"That's more than okay, Ralph. Will you be comfortable doing it in my office? Just you and me in the big glass room in the midd--"

Ralph laughed hysterically, flipping the script. It seemed out of his control. Instinctual. RK900 made a mental note of it. Now everybody was a lot more confused than he was. "You really think Ralph is going to fall for _that_ again? No! Ralph isn't going into _any_ room by himself."

"I'll go with you."

That confused everyone even further. Connor looked defeated. It seemed each one of the pair was faster on a certain draw.

"Me too. I'm his partner. You're more than sure to be safe with us," RK900 assured. Gavin gave him a quick side-eye, relieved.

Fowler turned his head to the pair's direction, only to snap right back at Ralph. "Will that make you more comfortable?"

He didn't say a word. His eyes darted from Connor and Hank to Fowler, to RK900 and Gavin, then back to Fowler.

"Ralph just..." He began to sound something like crying. The sight made the detective uncomfortable. He knew androids were coming to in showing emotion... but crying? Crying was more of a human thing. The smidge of sympathy growing in his throat was replaced quickly by panic as Ralph started to choke. Fowler's first aid kicked in, performing the Heimlich manoeuvre on the android. He was unsure whether or not it would work, but it was better than standing around. It proved useful in the end, Ralph throwing up a small baggie of red crystals.

"Oh" was all he mustered before passing out. Fowler immediately called for the medical team (with Connor's aid). Everyone could only watch as nurses carried the stretcher carrying the android. Nearby android officers picked up the baggie. They were the only ones allowed to pick up evidence barehanded due to the lack of fingerprint.

"Scan it for fucking anything," he told the android. The android nodded, power walking towards their forensic laboratory. Fowler went straight to his office, muting any interaction with a raise of his hand.

Gavin picked up the case file, slapping it on RK900's abdomen. "Get to fuckin' reading, Chase."

There it was again.

RK900 understood what he was implying. Dumbfounded, he held on to the folder. He could have sworn his hand was right on top of Gavin's, lingering a little longer than it should have. He couldn't say for sure. Gavin pulled his hand away faster than he registered the interaction to his drives. "Of course."


	2. Menial Tasks

He didn't miss a single detail. Every address, complaint, serial number, suspect, and report was stored (and backed up to a cloud server, for good measure). He read the entire thing 12 times, even setting time aside to create links and form theories as to how the case progressed. A red ice smuggler had been using androids to transport copious amounts of drugs unnoticed. Humans who had come to their senses and reported the crime could not identify the ringleader. He was never on scene. They could, however, pinpoint a man who went by the name of "Drew". They knew him to be "the man in the van", respected for his skill as a getaway driver when things went south.

The thickness of the file was for good reason. Apparently, this case had been going on for half a year. Related reports would get compiled into the file and investigated, only for it to result into dead end after dead end. There was never anything solid to go by. The case mostly flew under everyone's noses. He couldn't blame anyone-- it seemed hopeless. It flew under Hank, which struck RK900 as odd. With his past, he of all people would have wanted to see the case through.

Another interesting note were the locations reported. They were either completely vague, storage garages that belonged to completely random people, or too open to have been central hubs for drug trade and android trafficking. At the end of the day, that was what it was. Why Gavin thought this case could have been cracked wasn't beyond reason. One could argue the operation was being grounded by multiple people. The connection of this "Drew" person could imply he was trusted by whomever the main perpetrator was. If androids were being trafficked, that meant androids were missing. RK900 could find the original owners and asked them what they remembered.

It was a long shot. It's been months from the first incident. Anybody who had ever confessed never showed up again. Sometimes there would be missing person reports. Sometimes there was nothing at all. RK900 wanted to be troubled by the fact... but he couldn't. It was how it was in the crime world. Granted, 6 months ago androids going missing were treated as a theft, not a violation of rights. It was an interesting case, to say the least.

Whatever Ralph threw up didn't seem like a pack of candies. Everyone who took a look at it knew, too. That was why Gavin's urgency for the case to be understood kicked in from nowhere.

Gavin Reed. _That_ man was a peculiar case himself. If _any_ foreign object were forced inside an android, due to how components were arranged and designed for both ventilation and compact space, it would result to pressure that limited thirium flow, which prompts vocal synthesizers to strain. He managed not only to identify this, but also steal the opportunity to expand on whatever potential case before _Connor_ did. All in the matter of _minutes._

If he used to hate androids so much, why did he know so much about them? It couldn't have just been common sense... could it have? The only reason vocal synthesizers weakened was to emulate pain, alerting their (would have been) owners something was _critically_ amiss without sounding, quote unquote, 'creepy'. Did he know that? If so, how? Why?

Gavin focused on his terminal. His eyes moved around the screen, his finger dragging around it from all directions. Side to center, center to down, down to up, and wherever which way. It was a mesmerizing thing to observe. If you didn't know him, if you didn't look too hard-- you might think he was an android.

"The fuck are _you_ lookin' at?"

He didn’t respond, opting instead to stare him down. He wanted to focus on the finer details of his face. Not that he hasn't seen it before. It was more in curiousity. RK900 didn't get to see the full extent of Gavin Reed's intelligence, perception, and reaction time until today. He really should have seen it coming, what with his academic background. His level of thinking was just so-- different-- from what the android had been used to.

“Meatsack to asshole. Hello? You trip a circuit or something?” Gavin repeatedly snapped his fingers in font of RK900's face.

"It's..."

_Earlier, with Ralph. Did you know he could tie in to this case? Did you hope he did? Was it a gut feeling? Did you feel bad for him? Could you tell Connor and Hank wanted to take his case? Did you want to show off? Were you being cocky? Are you absurdly intelligent, or dangerously proud?_

"...nothing."

He held a puzzled look. 'Held' being a gracious term. In reality, his puzzled expression fizzled into shock. Shock at what, RK900 couldn't tell. He raised his eyebrows, then quickly forced them down as he turned to his left. His eyes focused on whatever was interesting on his west, stealing glances of the android. Gavin rested his head on his palm, the majority of his hand blocking any view of the android rookie. He didn't know what was wrong with him. His face felt much more sensitive that usual, hot to the touch. If anyone were to look at him, they would see his face flaring red as a tomato. _Oh, there's no fucking way. Reed, you bitch, don't pull this shit right now._

"Did I say somethin w--"

"Don't do that."

RK900 tilted his head. He did his best to find an angle where he could see the detective's face. "Do wh--"

"Don't." His hand now covered the entire bottom half of his face. The android could only see up from his eyes. Even at that, he couldn't tell the emotion he provoked with whatever it was he did. Maybe the staring made him grossly uncomfortable. Most likely, if anything, it was something he wasn't aware he was doing. It would make things that much easier if he told him what the problem was. "Do that."

His voice was muffled under his hand. RK900 worried the detective was experiencing caffeine withdrawal with how red the parts of his face he could see were. Granted, the last cup he drank was approximately 2 hours ago, but how and when symptoms appear varied from person to person. It could just be the coffee taking effect. The time frame for both matched. "I'll-- fuck, I'll be right back."

Gavin stood up, heading towards where it seemed to be the bathroom. His hand left its place, opting instead to run through his hair. That was another thing with humans. They had these habits they weren't aware of that made them that much more distinct. In the detective's case, he liked to run his hand through his hair to calm himself down. RK900 wasn't sure if he was aware of the fact. It's an endearing trait, that much he knew.

He caught a few eyes on the way. Yeah, it _was_ a strange sight on Gavin.

With him gone from his desk, the curiousity continued to gnaw at the android. It wouldn't hurt to take a peek on his terminal. After all, all it has is the DPD database. It's not anything private he could be checking on.

Once he was sure the detective was out of sight, he snuck to over to his side.

His desk was prim and proper. Something RK900 highly appreciated. He couldn't say the same about the state of his terminal.

Various missing android cases littered the screen, one in a window sized bigger than the others. All the cases seemed to have similar patterns of disappearance. With their circumstances, one would assume they had to have gone on free will. The main report outlined how a man observed androids being _lured_ to enter a suspicious van in the middle of dawn: where everyone would have been asleep. He took note of the van's plate number in case the van wasn't that of the owner.

The smaller windows outlined missing android reports around the same time. All disappeared in circumstances where the, back then, owner's backs would have been turned or out of the picture entirety. It wasn't unlikely for them to disappear even in broad daylight, making the cases that much more jarring. Two windows caught the new detective's attention. One was a report detailing the experience of an android. He woke up from one of the camps they sent androids to get destroyed in (back during the revolution) in the middle of getting hauled into a van. The android was a much bulkier model, which explained how he managed to escape.

The other window detailed an android's escape _during_ a business deal. She couldn't remember much other than her luck. The buyer took pity on her and shot the man dealing him. She took refuge in a place called 'Jericho', a deviant heaven reformed into an android organization. That meant this had been taking place even before the revolution. Question was, for how long?

Gavin was on to something. RK900 wasn't sure what, but it was something. There were 17 unique windows on the screen, overlayed one atop another. Only a handful of these cases were included in the file. The rest, he had to have sifted and connected himself.

Admirable. RK900 clicked every window to the front, storing every screen shot into his memory in less than two taps of a finger.

By the time he'd made himself comfortable on the DPD funded office chair, Gavin stepped outside of the comfort room. Hair near his forehead glistened, the edges of his grey long sleeves lightly soaked. He needed to wake himself up for the day. The caffeine woke him up physically. The water woke him up mentally. Something was _clearly_ wrong with him if that reaction of his had been sparked by a _co-worker android_ of all intelligent lifeforms. It's only been a week. He had no grounds to be feeling this way, albeit unconsciously.

No. He needed that slap to the face or two. _Eyes open, Reed,_ he chanted to himself. _Use your head._ The only thing to focus on was the case.

The layout on his terminal seemed disturbed. It was probably his mind playing tricks on him. Wouldn't be the first time today.

"Are you alright, detective?" The tone was icy. A complete contrast from his expression.

"It's nothing." Gavin let out a quick huff. "You got everything?"

"Folder cover to folder cover. Repeatedly. I've also formed a few theories and compounded reports with each other."

"No wonder it took you hours."

The quip lacked irony. Sarcasm. Disdain. Aggression. It sounded like a simple, genuine, and understanding remark.

A silence fell upon the two of them. An awkward, droning silence.

RK900 observed his own desk. It was filled mostly with paperwork and sticky notes, a white mug filled with pens, pencils, erasers, correction tape what have you. The only hint of customization was a round cat plush. It was gifted to him by a child during one of his first cases on the job. Calico, an embroidered manifestation of the -w- emoticon as its face, it was a more than welcome addition to the bland space he'd stationed himself at all day.

He got to pet a cat that case. It was a random street cat, but a cat nonetheless. Perhaps he should get more cat related things on his desk.

"Chase." Gavin's voice broke through his inner dialogue like a knife.

"Yes?"

"What do you..." he growled to himself, frustrated over... something. "...never mind."

Odd.

"Well, I mostly enjoy jazz and alternative music. I _do_ have an exception for pop songs soft on the ears, or was that not what you wanted to ask?"

RK900 could hear a gentle chuckle escape his lips, even if his face morphed back into it's more serious counterpart right after. "Was being a smartass programmed into you or was that developed?"

"Whichever one grants you a better night of sleep, detective."

"You know what _will_ give me a good night's sleep? Solving this damn case. I know that Ralph guy's got somethin' for us. Just gotta wait for him to wake up. He's probably going to lose some memories. Doubt there's a fucking cloud for a gardener android." He huffed. Focusing on work was one thing, but _focusing_ was another. One good look at the clock told the android the detective had been a little _too_ immersed in his work.

"Gavin--"

"What?" He replied, sharp.

"--you haven't eaten anything."

"So? I'm waiting for break."

"That was two hours ago."

"I'll live."

"Gavin, you--"

"I'll be fine, now shut up. I need the quiet."

RK900 pouted. Stubborn was another thing he had to remember about him. Still, Gavin was human. Humans needed energy. Based on his spectacle earlier, the only thing he's had from the morning to 1pm in the afternoon was coffee. He took it upon himself the responsibility of ensuring the detective had things other than coffee floating around his stomach.

The nice android working at the cafeteria handed him Gavin's regular order: rice, pasta, and meat with a drink of pineapple. How the drink wasn't coffee will forever baffle him. On the way out, he nearly bumped into Connor, holding on to his own porcelain bowl filled with food and a tall glass of iced tea.

"Him too?" Connor inquired, unfamiliar of the detective's habits. He ran one thorough diagnostic scan on his counterpart. CyberLife really burned through their budget to make RK900 more hi-tech than himself. A part of him hurt. Another part remembered he wasn't some 'replacement android' sent to decommission him. He _wanted_ to work. Connor doesn't get to argue that.

"Only today. The case has been of high interest to him. I can see why. It's still no excuse to neglect his health."

He grinned. There weren't many he could relate to on a near spiritual level. There was a poetry to it, an upgraded version of himself being the first to understand his plights. "At least he isn't an alcoholic."

"I suppose." Both of them looked to their respective partners. Hank busy filling out files. Gavin busy piecing out the case. _Humans, am I right?_ their eyes seemed to say. Perhaps there were more similarities between the lieutenant and the detective than they realized. "It was nice to meet you Connor."

"Likewise... do I get to call you older brother?"

RK900 sighed, fully grasping his work life like it were the first time he realized what it entailed. "Absolutely not."

"Understood."


	3. Androids

Gavin's eyed kept glued to his terminal. A workaholic, that man was. There weren't many who were half as dedicated as he was to his work, especially with the rise of androids. He shot RK900 an impatient side look. "Listen up. Good news, bad news. Good news-- is that for me?"

RK900 gingerly set the porcelain bowl, complete with its drink, besides the detective. He blinked at him, unmoving.

His partner scoffed, though his eyes kept trained on the meal. Coffee singlehandedly staved hunger off for his entire day. He definitely could've done it himself once he finished thinking about the reports. Chase was his partner, not his babysitter. He had to stop acting like it. "Whatever. Alright, good news-- Ralph's up. Bad news. He's on edge. Mechanic says his memory's fucked."

"That's... odd..." RK900 furrowed his eyebrows. Memory corruption wasn't synonymous with losing consciousness in androids. There were only 2 possible causes: hardware or software damage.

Gavin picked up the utensils on the bowl. "Write me a fuckin' novel about it. He was down for hours! If he were human-- ha!" He did a throat-slicing motion with the fork, accompanied with a fitting _clllk_ sound.

There was a horror in Ralph's situation the recruit didn't want to think about. Losing some of your memories, battered and bruised surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Might as well be stuck in an ocean surrounded by sharks. He could only imagine how scared and _lost_ he must have been feeling. Like... being trapped in a sub-basement development floor of a gigantic building, awoken with a foreign way of interpreting information, overloading you with confusion and emotion. Alone.

"I'm going to visit him."

"Your auditory receptors broken or something? He's useless right now." His speech was garbled what with the food coming and going from his mouth at a concerning speed. Somehow, he held an incredulous look through stuffed cheeks.

"I'm not looking for an interrogation. I just want to see what he remembers."

Gavin shrugged, swallowing. "Go off, I guess."

"What?"

"What?"

His expression grew baffled. "Well... I won't be long. Try not to miss me."

The detective watched his partner walk out of the cubicle areas and straight into his dumb, stupid, idiot, irrational, senseless life. It was as if he realized exactly what he'd gotten himself into with having the android as a partner. He was designed well, that much he could say. All of them were. Damn androids and their damn 'aesthetically pleasing design' and their damn personality programs with their damn charms and damn intelligence. Gavin violently stabbed at the cut of meat on his bowl, officers passing by his cubicle flinching from the impact.

* * *

Stuffy air with a muted atmosphere of luminescent lights, assorted technologies, and the gentle heat they emanated helped form the Clinic to its picture. There were 6 medical beds at the ready, 2 android doctors, a human nurse, an android nurse, and a dentist in charge of the health concerns of the entire precinct. Another android wore medical gear trickled with blue stains in charge of any android related concerns. RK900 caught him leaving one of the patient's rooms.

In front was a reception desk, manned by the nurse nowhere to be found. To the right were the doctor's rooms, the android mechanic's area, the dentist's room, storage, and the staff bathroom. To the left were the 6 medical rooms and the patient's bathroom. Behind the reception was a mini pharmacy filled with over-the-counter medicine, painkillers, vitamins, and etc. Hugging the wall was a row of seats beside a water cooler parallel the reception, adjacent the door. There was a bed for emergency on-the-scene surgery covered only by curtains encircling it, situated meters in front of the water cooler.

The mechanic caught sight of the new detective coming through the door. He waved his hands in the air. "Hey! You're the new guy, not Connor! You're looking for that guy who passed out hours ago, aren't you?" Soft, wavy, black hair drooped to one side of his face, a gentle smile plastered on top. Stocky build, fierce, brown eyes, and sharp features. The trademarks of the male Traci bot.

RK900 raised an eyebrow. "That's correct. Were you the one who messaged Gavin?"

The mechanic lit up. "Yes! Yes, I messaged him about it. You two are partners, right? Well, the one thing Ralph remembers from the last few hours is you and Gavin specifically." He sighed dreamily. " _Who **wouldn't** remember Gavin?_"

Not androids, that was for certain. "May I talk to him?"

It took a while for the mechanic to respond, lost in whatever image he had played in his head. "Huh? Oh, yes! Yes, right this way!" He shook himself back to reality. Reed? He liked _Reed?_ Or the very least, found him attractive? RK900 wasn't an expert on what was attractive, but he figured he wasn't one to debate the idea. For a man nearing his 40's, he _was_ in good shape. The only physical drawback he could think others would hang up on was his eyebags, and even that was due to his competitive nature as a detective, coupled with a disregard for distractions. He liked to use all of his time, even if it meant utilizing the time for sleeping for work-related issues. If anything, it should add to...

Why was he thinking about this?

Ralph was flat on the ground beside his bed, staring at the ceiling. When the two came in, he sat upright and backed himself to the nearest wall. Review of what Ralph remembers: something happened, he needs a detective, and someone was with him. Someone blue. Orange. Blue. Orange. Orange-ish. Ralph is in a police precinct. Filled with police and NOT not-safe people. Plus, androids that were free!

"Hey Ralpharoo," the mechanic, Dylan, cooed. Ralph, although still averse to the interaction, relaxed at the sound of his voice. "I got the android instead of the human one. I hope that's okay."

His movement was erratic. He was paranoid of a danger. Nobody was sure what that danger was. "Ralph is okay with that. Ralph wants you to leave him with the detective. Ralph needs him. Alone. With Ralph."

Dylan didn't mind. He gently patted the recruit on the shoulder with a warm smirk as if to say 'You got this'.

Just like that, RK900 was left in the room with an unstable, damaged, possibly smuggled android. There was a pulling sensation in his programming, dictating exactly how he should handle the situation to get everything he needed to hear. It took effort on his part to do the one thing he wasn't made to: sympathize.

"H-hi."

His voice was mellow. He kept his hands in front of him for Ralph to see. "Hello."

"Ice." Ralph shrugged. He hugged his knees loose, within the detective standing right by the door's line of sight. "What's ice?"

"Red ice." He continued. Same case or not, it was still one that needed his attention. "A stimulant. It contains thirium, acetone, lithium, toluene, and hydrochloric acid. Are you familiar?"

Thirium being a part of its production surely didn't help ease RK900. The gash on his face extended from the start of his cheekbone all the way to his scalp. It no longer leaked, although it was clear that was the _only_ repair allowed. Ralph's eyes were glossy, staring at a nonspecific area in front of him. "How is Ralph here?"

A ceiling fan whirled above them, cutting through any semblance of tension or uneasiness. "You ran through security. You choked on a bag of red ice, spat it out, and lost consciousness."

As he spoke, Ralph counted on his fingers. He was doing his best to construct a timeline of what he remembered and what not-deviant-hunter said. His face would scrunch up at points, especially when he couldn't seem to connect one event from another. His head jerked up to look at his face. "That's wrong. Ralph wasn't alone."

Surely, if someone else came with him, someone would have said something. Perhaps he got lost on the way. Trackers _did_ expire in deviants. Perhaps they tricked Ralph, which given his attitude so far didn't seem unlikely. "Ralph, you were the only one who ran in here."

His voice grew more and more distressed as the seconds went by. His LED shone a constant orange. "He was blue. Orange. Blue. Orange. Orange-ish? Nobody? But Ralph wasn't alone."

The fresh detective had no idea what he was talking about. Then again, androids didn't misremember. For them were only lies and contextual truths. There was nothing to gain from lying about a second party that RK900 could think of. Concerned with the LED state, he decided to begin reading his stress levels as he spoke.

STRESS LEVEL: 50% "Ralph. What's his name?"

STRESS LEVEL: 56% "Ralph-- Ralph can't remember! He was very nice! He escaped with me and he said he was going to follow me but he isn't here."

STRESS LEVEL: 57%. "Is he an android?"

STRESS LEVEL: 49%. He nodded. "Ralph remembers _that,_ of course." He nodded again, keeping eye contact. "Everyone was."

STRESS LEVEL: 47%. "Everyone from where?"

STRESS LEVEL: 42%.

STRESS LEVEL: 33%.

STRESS LEVEL: 74%. His LED flashed red. "I don't know."

RK900 began to feel his own side of stress. He was burning to take this to an interrogation room and _force Ralph_ to remember. He was more than sure if he got him to re-enact what he went through, he would get all the information he needed right here, right now. It was a deranged method that gave results. It was always difficult to argue humanity with results. All he would need is to push the reality that a packet of red ice was forced into this android for one reason or another. Maybe replicating the sensation by wrapping his hands around his throat would--

He burned the idea as fast as it came. The orange LED betrayed his composure. Ralph continued to sit there. Scared, alone, lost, and vulnerable. RK900 would have shot himself if he could for entertaining the pervasive programming.

Ralph's gaze snapped around the room, studying it alongside his own thoughts. His hands kept slapping the floor as if to assure him there _was_ one. He kept looking behind him, his hands travelling up to the wall. He still kept slapping it, for whatever reason. In humans, this would be a 'mental breakdown'. "Is that everything?" He questioned. There was a hint of child-like innocence in his voice. It would make any heart twinge with hurt.

"For now. Your memory has several gaps. I'll be on the lookout for... blue-orange. If you need me, tell Dylan. It's not as fast, but it's how things are done in the department."

"Okay." His eyes fixated on the medical bed. Standard issue, green, two crank medical bed. All the blue had been reserved for hospitals. Green was the next best thing. His hands had stopped slapping the room in favor of studying the base of his head. His other hand pressed against the ground. "Bye."

RK900 didn't make anything of it. What _could_ he? Closing the door, he realized there wasn't much for the case. If he was right, they were expecting someone to come into the department looking for him. He could only hope he had more to say. The mechanic lounged on a waiting bench by the reception. "What a gentle soul. I really hope I can get to fix that huge hole on his face soon."

Android damage couldn't be fixed until after a case to avoid losing evidence. It sounded harsh, but it was necessary. RK900 preferred not to think about it too hard. The one exclusion to the rule was if it risked shutdown. "The sooner he gets better, the sooner he finds justice."

In reality, he was terrified for Ralph. If thoughts to pursue the case overtook his own, he wasn't sure what could happen to Ralph if it remained unsolved under his supervision for long. He was made with the intention to be faster. Faster didn't include being moral. Faster included results. He really was an improvement to the RK800. Even the programming was a process of its own. He needed to solve this case _soon._

"There's only so much we _can_ do." Dylan giggled sheepishly. "Thank rA9 he wasn't human."

He didn't want to say it out loud... but he and Gavin were right. Humans were so fragile. Easily damaged and hurt. In every sense of the word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't reply to the comments since I never know what to say. I just wanted to let you guys know that I do read them.
> 
> To the few comments-- thank you. I hope the following chapters don't disappoint.


	4. Admission

"Currently, we're looking at 3 reports in the past month." Connor's voice was soft and and sweet. It was always nice to hear first thing in the morning or last thing in the evening. "Different areas, same Detroit. The missing androids seemed to..."

The words slowly shifted into buzzing darting straight through Hank's head. He wanted to listen, but his thoughts were focused on an entirely different case. Gavin had been staring at nothing but his terminal in the past 10 minutes or so, having had scarfed down a meal within 6. His demeanor was far more tense and easily aggravated than he had been used to. An angered Gavin Reed normally consisted of: a flurry of passive aggressive comments; temper tantrums; and, admittedly witty, insults.

Yet today, that wasn't the case. He was passive aggressive, but curt. His temper was high, but the only ones to feel a wrath were himself and his belongings. Instead of insults, there was only brooding silence. It threw everyone off. Chris and Tina even paused by him asking if he was okay. Everyone else, however concerned they may be, appreciated the change.

Connor followed Hank's gaze, doing his best not to make himself obvious to the subject of discussion. He mouthed 'oh' once he realized why he was looking.

His spritzy, yet stern brown eyes alternated between Hank and the detective. Hank sighed. "Well..." He tilted his head backwards, taking a breath. "It's stupid."

His partner raised an eyebrow. He knew enough about the lieutenant to know what he was thinking. Oftentimes, his android nature would force him to realize only _that._ "It can't be _that_ , well, _stupid_."

He dragged his eyes back to Connor. In his life, there always was someone to care for. Cole. Sumo-- he couldn't talk, so there was definitely a sort of companionship he couldn't fill (bless his soul). Then Connor. He was more automated, no shit, but he was company with his own thoughts and ideas. At a time before Connor, there was another. Someone he treated like a son, although that son be everything Hank didn't want him to be-- save for one attribute. One that trumped even Hank's.

"I can check up on him, if you like." Connor offered.

"No, no. He'll be okay. I just-- whatever." He shook his head. "You said missing androids?"

* * *

His foot tapped impatiently below his desk. There wasn't much he could do with the case as of now. He was a homicide detective. He had explored his boundaries in the last week with RK900. He learned new tips and tricks about androids. He even scoured every recess of the internet he could manage to learn about them. Still, no amount of guides and articles could have prepared him for this case. Gavin was on the right track. He just _knew_ he was on the right track.

They had a few leads. The case was only ever taken seriously after the revolution. That was when androids began reporting about it. Their best leads were Ralph and the woman who escaped. Gavin huffed. _They're people, I guess._ Jericho may no longer had been a place, but it still existed. Their leader remained to be Markus. He was at direct contact with the department despite being a busy man. He was busy with a wonderful reason. Gavin greatly respected that.

With the lengths technology had gone, an inkling of thought in his brain assumed he could email android brains directly. It sounded weird thinking about it. How much more if it were implemented escaped him. He wrote up the most formal of emails he's ever had to do in his life in less than it took to lap a soccer field twice. It was more than good and that's all he needed it to be. Lead back to his inbox, the message alerting him of Ralph's condition silently rested atop his screen.

Dylan, Dylan, Dylan. He couldn't say he wasn't familiar. Such striking features on him. He was _incredibly dificult_ to miss once you noticed him. Sharp jawline with a faint 5 o'clock shadow, defined eyebrows, wide, athletic build, wavy hair that framed his high cheekbones down to the last strand-- oh, just his _hair_ was enough of a lighthouse drawing attention to him. A voice that sounded like butter on freshly made toast. His eyes-- they were less prominent, but they were beautiful in their own right. A man could lose himself looking at those endless pools of honey any day. It did wonders to compliment the warmth that radiated his lips every time they moved.

Though his eyes weren't the most beautiful he'd ever seen.

He hadn't noticed his teeth grinding against each other until he opened his eyes. He had to unclench his jaw with his hand to get it feeling 'right' again. What a fucking dumbass. None of what he was doing was helping whatever was wrong with him. Hell, he was lucky he managed to get something _done_ with the trainwreck of a self he had going on today. It was probably one of _those_ days. Ugh. He'll deal with it after work.

He glanced at his terminal and groaned. It was barely 3 in the afternoon.

Fuck it. The information system on the terminal was also connected to a laptop he had at home. He could do all his thinking in a less erratic environment. You could almost hear people relax as he made his way past them. Hank, who had been discussing a case at length with his partner, caught eyes with the detective. Gavin sneered, then broke eye contact.

Before he disappared from the office, RK900 caught a glimpse of Gavin. His rushing towards him was a secondary reaction. Gavin Reed _loved_ work more than anything. There was little reason to leave early for someone like him. He nearly tripped over himself with the speed of rushing from a hallway, shifting left through work area, to finally shift right to the entrance / exit. Gavin's usual backpack had one strap slung lazily on his shoulder. His pace was rigid, which made the situation that much more confusing.

"Gavin!" RK900 called out. He didn't mean to, but there was a hint of hurt in his voice. He tried grabbing for his shoulder. In a reflex RK900 didn't expect, the detective turned around with the heel of one leg planted firmly to the ground. He shifted the placement of his bag from his shoulder to in front of him, acting as a barrier between him and the android. For the split second he didn't recognize him, Gavin's mind was sent to a completely different time in his life.

RK900 jerked his hand back to his side, bewildered. "Where are you going?"

When his voice pierced his ears, he snapped back to reality. One quick scan of his surroundings and his mind ran as normal. "Why do you care?" He stopped propping the bag up like a shield.

"I'm perplexed, if anything. Isn't it too early?" It was hard to read for emotions in his voice. Not like Gavin cared to read him for whatever reason.

"I'm not some fucking slackjob, if that's what you're trying to say. Here's not the only place I can do work." His words came out sharper than he intended.

RK900 could sense he struck a nerve he hadn't intended to. "I know. I'm only wondering why today and now, of all times. Speaking of work, I managed to get something useful from Ralph."

Gavin's surprise was difficult to mask. "...really? Okay, run me the important shit."

"You really should cut back on the swearing."

"I know, watchdog. You're supposed to be my partner. Cut me some slack." He pulled out his cellphone, pressing the power button twice. "Come on, Chase. Whaddya got?" He then pointed where the mic would have been to the android's face.

The detective's efficiency never failed to impress the recruit. Pushing aside the blatant disregard for the continuous complaints of the same behaviorial issue, RK900 relayed everything as concisely as he could. Everything, save for his troubling programming. He figured Gavin could go the entire duration of their partnership without having to know about it.

Gavin simply nodded his head at every important point his partner spoke. It was eerie how different his work and social attitudes were. It was like two separate people in one body. Gavin renamed the audio, then stored the phone to his pocket. He'll think about the 'blue-orange' second party when he got home. Right now, the last thing he needed was to be around that android. Hell, around _anyone_ "Yeah. Perfect. See you." He readied to face the exit when RK900 spoke up.

"Gavin, if you're going to study the case in your home, I suggest I go with you. We _are_ working on the same one after all."

His heart raced in his ears. His temperature rose. He knew exactly why, just that there was just no way in hell he was going to admit it to himself. He ran a hand through his hair. "Mm-mmp. Not happenin'. That other guy might barge in today. I need you _here_." He wasn't sure if that was work or impromptu bullshit working, but it was _something_.

RK900 couldn't do much about it now. He knew Gavin was going to obsess over the case. That blue-orange could come in anytime. If he even _was_ a someone. Where did the nickname Chase come from? "I suppoee you _do_have a point. I'll be on alert."

Finally. Once Gavin's back was turned, he let out a sigh of relief. He rushed to the exit with no time to lose.

Heading back to his spot, several prying eyes went back to minding their own business. Even Connor, invested in his own case discussion, snuck a look at the new detective. A part of him felt bad that he had to deal with Gavin Reed everyday. Another part felt worried. Sure, the RK900's were designed to be more resilient than himself, but this is a world where androids went beyond design. He could only hope RK900 didn't take too much of Reed's attitude to heart.

Tina Chen had been one of the few people snaking heads to see what was happening between the detectives. RK900 seemed unaffected with it all, though she could tell it bothered him just from the way he walked. She furrowed her eyebrows in disapproval. Gav always was a dumbass when it came to his partners. Whether at work or in real life didn't make much of a difference. "Hey champ," she greeted, grabbing Gav's office chair.

"Good afternoon, miss Chen." It was a preprogrammed response, but he didn't see much reason in switching it up.

"Oh come on. Tina works fine." She sat down and rotated to face the android. "I'm seeing you and Gavin working out great."

RK900 shrugged. "I hope so. It's an added challenge to work with such an aggressive personality, but his work ethic is another facet of him entirely."

She chuckled. "That's an awfully backhanded way of calling him an asshole. I like you. And if I like you," Tina pointed at RK900, "chances are-- he likes you too."

RK900 hadn't really thought Gavin had friends in the department. He's seen him talk with Tina every now and then, but for her to talk like this about Gavin-- what else did he have to find out? He tilted his head to one side, a small smile forming on his lips. "We'll have to see about that."

"See to it tomorrow. Gav's going to be busy for a _while,_ haha." Tina spread a sly grin.

The phrasing struck RK900. He said he was going home. She was insinuating everything _but_ case analysis. "What do you mean by that?"

* * *

Gavin nearly slammed the door to his car. It looked brand new for something he's owned for about a decade. There wasn't much reason to buy a new car anyway. That, and the last thing he needed was a car that could take him anywhere where he couldn't see the driver. From his garage, he beelined to his bedroom to change. People didn't need to know about his routine.

God only knows how awkward it was last time.

He traded in the brown leather jacket, dress shirt, jeans, dress shoes and black watch for a peach bomber jacket, a black floral print button up, tan shorts that went up to his knees, a gold watch, and loafers. It was far fom his usual clothing style. He _relied_ on that fact. One look in the mirror and he was unrecognizable as the man from work. Finishing it off with gold rimmed aviators, he snapped his fingers and finget gunned to himself. His motorcycle was usually for emergencies or when he ran late (which rarely did happen, by the way). That, and for doing things he didn't want other people to find out about.

By the time he had stepped back into his garage, he held a phone up to his ear, a helmet in the other hand. "Hey. Yeah. Something I gotta get out. No. Don't worry, I'm paying you. It's still work hours. No, really. Elizabeth, take the damn money. I don't care if you're fucking deviant, you're working and I'm going in at work hours. Mhm. Yeah. No. Like 2 hours? It's more me-to-you, but fuck, I'm not gonna say no to that. Alright. Oh, I'd be passing by a huge mall on the way, do you want anything? Sure? Corkage my dick, I can pay for it. Sure? Fine, fine. I'm on my way."

He owed plenty to this routine, no matter its origins. He relied on it, to a degree. It comforted him in a way. Clicking the helmet to his head, he had already been thinking of how he'd welcome the android, what tone of voice he'd use, and how he would sound saying it. His motorcycle looked far more remarkable than his car. The choice was not out of the intention to show off. It was a nice motorcyle credited solely to how he liked its sound when revved.

He was a simple man. Except when he wasn't. And to think, he'd still be in his office doing something a lot more promising had he not found his goddamn co-worker... attractive.

Humans are so fucking shit sometimes.


End file.
